his own brother. Nor could he.

I go back to the upper wards. Little Cutlep moans deeply in restless
sleep. But there are others to be cheered, and many a promise to be
fulfilled from the heterogeneous contents of a small basket, a constant
and most valuable companion. Comfort-bags, braces, knives, come forth at
requirement. Books, too, are always in demand. After they have been
read, they are sent to many a distant fireside by mail; some of the boys
have several treasured up to take with them when they go home, for such
books are rare where they live, and their little brothers and sisters
will greatly prize them. One boy still keeps under his pillow, clinging
to it until the last, the little book, "Come to Jesus," which he
requests shall be sent to his mother after his death, with the message
that it has been the saving of his soul.

New wants arise to be remembered, and special desires for additions to
the next meal are expressed. On the whole, the men seem comfortable and
happy to-day, as they rest on their elbows partly sitting up in bed,
playing backgammon, or scanning the last pictorial newspaper, or working
over puzzles, for which last they are indebted to Rev. Mr. Ware, who
made a visit to our hospital a few weeks since, and on his return sent
from Boston a goodly assortment of amusements.

By this time the stimulants are to be given out again, and preparations
made for dinner. For it will hardly be welcome, unless the promised mug
of milk or ale, fried onions or sour-krout, fruit or jelly, shall come
with it. Each tray receives its burden of hearty nourishment, and by one
o'clock the ladies may be seen returning to their quarters for rations
of beef and bread. It is well that we are blessed with elastic spirits,
for "a merry heart doeth good like a medicine." All sadness for the dead
must be concealed for the sake of the living. As we cheerfully meet at
dinner-time, an occasional letter in the following strain is not without
a salutary and amusing effect:--

"DEAR MISS T----:--I set down to tell you that I've arrove hum,
an wish I was sum whar else. I've got 3 Bully boys an they are
helpin me about gettin the garden sass into the groun; but they
haint got no mother, an ive got a hous and a kow an I thort
youd be kinder handy to take care of um, if youd stoop so much.
I've thort of you ever sense I com from the hospittle, and how
kinder jimmy you used to walk up and doun the